


Were we lovers?

by etribalfire



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, also they gave us THAT hyrule warriors trailer, am I procastinating writing my book by writing fanfiction?, chapters are not chronological, english is not my first language, hell yeah, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etribalfire/pseuds/etribalfire
Summary: Snippets from before and after the calamity
Relationships: Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 91





	1. Ballroom

“Thank you for staring everyone down.”

Link moves his head slightly, indicating that he's listening, but he does not turn around. It doesn't matter. She knows him so well by now, she can almost see the little smirk her comment must have left on his face. Another man approaches to ask her, so Link's posture slightly stiffens, making him taller. She knows the man who is now hesitating, knows how boring dancing with him would be. He looks at Link for a moment, trying to be intimidating as well, but it does not work for him. Avoiding the man’s gaze, Zelda silently prays that he will not have the courage to ask her. Link standing in front of her has, so far, kept off all suitors. She has never been more grateful. It works again. The man retreats, and Link's shoulders relax.

Standing at the wall and having one-sided conversations with Link is much more pleasant than dancing. She never wants to go back to the way things were before him, when she had to socialize all evening. If it weren't for the disapproving look on her father's face, she might actually enjoy herself. Thankfully the music stops, with the musicians standing up, signaling a pause.

“Let's go outside for a while.”

He doesn’t answer, not when there are other people around, but his presence behind her is soothing nonetheless. A lot of guests have decided to go to the gardens as well, but eventually they find a quiet corner with no one around. She sinks down on to a bench, kicking her shoes off her feet. Link does not join her.

“What are you doing over there?” she asks.

He has stopped unusually far away from her, relaxing against the castle wall. She knows how much he hates the posture, standing still all day long, when he is born for running around, riding and climbing. He shakes his head at her question.

“Tell me, please.”

“I don’t think you want to hear the reason.”

“Please.”

Reluctantly, he answers: “My father pulled me aside yesterday. Told me to be careful around you, keep my distance. I suspect there may be some rumors about… us.”

“Of course there are," she says, rolling her eyes. "I have heard them as well. It’s a perfect reason for them to explain my failure. _Distracted by that handsome knight of hers._ I don’t know how Father could have ever thought this was a good idea.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

No, it does not. When she first heard her maid whisper, her only thought was: _Good. Let them know they have no chance with him._

“Not more than all the other things that are being said about me.”

He gives her a sad smile.

“What would be the punishment, for such an affair with Hyrule’s princess? They must have told you when you came into my service."

“Death by hanging.”

They are staring at each other for a moment. He looks so pretty tonight, his blue eyes looking almost black in the lantern light. But he also looks very, very tired. Live in the castle always has that effect on him. It has been too long since they were allowed to leave for more than a day. Their shared nightmares and dreams of past lives are always strongest within these walls. She longs for the nights outside, for the solitude in the wilderness that transforms him into his best, most radiant self. It was the first straw for her heart, when he agreed to skip the inns on the road and showed her the real wilderness. When she began to see that her place was with him, outside of these walls.

She wants to tell him: _I wish the rumors were true._

"Better get back then.”

The next suitor is smart, asking her before Link has a chance to get back to standing in front of her. She has no choice but to accept. While she is twirling on the other man’s arm, she can feel the burn of Link's eyes at her back.

 _Death by hanging._ That’s why she will never act on this, even though she is almost certain that he feels the same.

After he has taken her to her chamber and excused himself, she once again loses herself in fantasies. She imagines him in her bed, a secret, passionate affair. A grateful father, after a sealed calamity, granting the Hylian champion her hand. A simple life by his side, in another lifetime.

 _Death by hanging._ Thank Hylia for her imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. I always pictured Link as someone who would truly hate the life of a knight, so here's my take on this headcanon.


	2. Inn

“Do you see them too?”

Zelda looks up from her journal. At the fireplace, outside the inn where they are spending the night, her knight patiently awaits her answer. Ever since they started talking a few weeks ago, she has slowly started to warm up to him. Still, she is not used to him asking her things out of the blue. 

“See what?”

“The _others_. Ever since I pulled the sword I have been having these dreams.”

Zelda thinks for a moment, contemplating wether or not she should open up about this. But her restraint is not match for the honest, open look on his face.

“Dreams or nightmares?” she asks, “The others have nothing but nightmares for me.”

Link thinks for a moment, before he answers: “I guess they are more nightmares than dreams. Mostly fighting, blood and pain. But they all won in the end, didn’t they?”

She nods slowly. “Why do we only see the gruesome things then?”

“I do not know,” he says, shrugging. “Maybe to tell us that it is normal to feel despair at the thought of fighting the calamity. That we cannot avoid the losses and the pain, that it will be a close call, no matter how much we prepare. Or how much time you spend praying.”

“Are you saying my prayers do not matter?”

He hesitates, the anger in her voice clearly reminding him of her shouting ability.

Carefully, he continues: “So far they have only brought you hypothermia.”

She does not answer, pondering his theory while she is running her fingers over the cover of her journal. If she is being honest with herself, praying has always felt a little pointless. But she has never heard anyone openly suggest it.

“I have been told that prayer will awaken my power. It is public knowledge how little success I’ve had, I have no choice but to continue. Unless you have a better idea how to reconnect with the sealing power.”

“When I saw the sword-”

“I don’t want to hear about that sword!"

That damn blade, she has never hated anything more. Where is her sword, her weapon that she can train and sharpen? She tries to tame her anger, reminding herself that its master is not the idiot she thought.

Coldy, she continues: "Training to be a knight and then pulling a sword out of a stone has nothing to do with magical powers that I am supposed to use at will.”

“When I saw the sword,” he says calmly, “I wanted to turn around and leave.”

“You did not. Who could resist wielding such a weapon?”

“ _I_ did," he says, his voice hard. "I took a year off training to travel the lands, as becoming a knight did not feel like the right fit for me. When I stumbled upon the master sword, I knew it from my dreams, and I knew what I would become by freeing it. I did not want it. But my body was acting on its own, stepping forward to retrieve it, with my mind screaming to go back.” 

He eyes the weapon, leaning beside him, a defeated look on his face. 

Quietly, he continues: “My parents were so shocked when I came home. They always told me stories about the ancient heroes, and they always said that only a fool would pull the sword. I tried to tell them that I had no choice, but I don’t think they believed me. So back to the castle it was, back to being a knight.”

He looks up at her, a small, comforting smile on his lips. “But that’s how I know that when the moment comes, your powers will awaken, just like my body was reaching for the sword. I am sure of it. Our fates are set, and there is nothing we can do about it.”

She doesn’t know what to make of this, but the look on his face is telling her that he is not lying. Among all other thoughts that are now running through her head, a great wave of affection for her knight rolls over her.

"I know how you must have felt," she says, “I never wanted to be the princess either."

He huffs, a smile on his face now. “I figured.”

“If it is any consolation, I think you are a very good knight. I am sorry that you feel this way about your calling.”

“It is not so bad now,” he says, “Guarding you, I mean. No more night shifts, and a room to myself. Could be worse."

He sets his empty bowl of soup on the ground. “And I am not a good knight. Just today, you talked me into horse racing across that field. You could have broken your neck. And this spot for eating, even though protocol dictates that I take you to eat inside the inn, where no one can attack you so easily.”

“A good knight for me then.”

He laughs. “Maybe. You are lucky I am not a fan of crowds either.”

She smiles back at him.“Will you tell me of your travels? I have never seen anything besides the springs, roads and cities."

He is a good storyteller. Her fingers itch to record what he is saying in her journal, but she refuses, giving him her full attention. The way that he speaks of nature away from roads and people makes her heart swell with longing for a different life. How many years she could spend in the wilderness, recording flowers and animals, rock formations and weather phenomena. Not to mention the ancient structures that slumber all over these lands.

“Will you take me?”

If he is surprised by her question, he does not show it. “I don’t think I can.”

“I’ll never see it, unless you take me.”

“I am not allowed to leave the roads with you. I have to report every inn that we spend the night at, and I am sure they check the records.”

Only now does she remember that he might be punished for taking her. _Selfish princess._

Link is looking at the flames, lost in thought.

“I am sorry,” she begins, “It was too much to ask-”

“Let me think about it.”

She is speechless for a moment, excitement filling her. “Really?”

He nods, smiling. “I miss it too, after all. And I have gotten away with breaking the rules before. We just have to be smart. Shouldn't be hard with your brains."

“It’s ‘brain’, singular.”

“Point proven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, they are introverts.


	3. Hateno

They are sitting at the cooking pot, outside his new home in Hateno. He is stirring a mouth-watering risotto, while answering her questions about his memory. She is surprised by how little he remembers, and even more surprised by how much she does not care. When he pulled her up behind him on his horse, to bring them to Kakariko after the battle, nothing felt different. He was shy at first, but even in those first hours so caring towards her, so unchanged in his nature, that the worry about his memories soon faded. Now, two weeks later, their closeness has returned. It feels like nothing has changed. The next time she has nightmares, she will ask him to stay with her, in the bed on the second floor. And she knows he won’t deny her. She watches as he redoes his ponytail, can’t believe that she is sharing a house with this beautiful man.

“I still knew how to cook,” he says. “You can add that to your list.”

She nods, trying to record everything he is telling her for Purah. It amazes her, what his body remembered and what he had to relearn. So far, there seems no order to it, but she is desperate to find a pattern.

“What about fighting?”

“I had to relearn. But it came back easily.”

“Horse riding?”

“Oh, I remembered. Though I could not get the hang out of the knight saddle that I won.”

She smiles. “You used to complain about that one all the time. Said the saddle is doing more harm than good, hindering the horse's spirit. We had a good debate about it, that ended in you teaching me how to ride bareback.”

“When was this?”

“Uhh… pretty close to the calamity. We were traveling back from the Zora and I tried to delay our return to the castle. And of course, you let me.”

“Riding bareback seems like something every rider should know.”

“Of course I agreed,” she says, “Learning the basics is the foundation for every craft. But in the castle, they would have had your head for it. You broke about 50 rules when you taught me.”

She tries to shove the memory away, but it comes to her nevertheless. She was scared that day, the back of her horse so slippery without the saddle. When she had finally dared to trot around the meadow, he had touched her calf afterwards to compliment her, while she was still on her horse. She’ll never forget the weight of his hand on her leg, nor his proud smile.

He is watching her, as if trying to read her mind.

“These things that you tell me, they sound so much more like me than anything I saw in the memories. I can’t believe I was a knight. These few moments that I was able to recover with the slate, it felt like watching a twin. Following orders without questions, not talking unless spoken to...”

“Trust me, most of the time you did neither of those things.”

“I never talked in those memories. And you wrote in your diary that I _silently bore any burden._ ”

“I wasn’t very good at keeping a diary, at writing about my feelings.”

Link looks skeptical, pointing at the notebooks in her lap, where she is recording both his risotto recipe and what he tells her about his memory.

“That’s different. I am only good at writing about simple facts and findings. You should read the poetry that I once tried to come up with.”

He quietly laughs while he adds the last of the broth. “It’ll be ready soon. You won’t believe how hungry I am.”

“How much longer?”

He shrugs. “Three minutes maybe. It would cook quicker with a lid.”

She neatly records his vague estimation. When she thinks loudly about recording his breakfast omelette as well, he impatiently grabs her journal and throws it off to the side. She tries to act angry, but the smell of the bowl that he is now holding up to her is bringing a smile to her face. His cooking is delicious, as always. They eat together in comfortable silence and watch the sunset afterwards, while the neighbour’s cat finds its way into Link’s lap. 

Watching the colors of the sky, she quietly gathers her courage and asks: “Why haven’t you asked me about your family?”

She can feel him freeze at her question. It has been bugging her ever since she woke, but ever since he took her to Hateno she has thought about little else. From up here, she can see the property where his family home stood, now a pumpkin field. Nothing left but the memory in her head: his quiet mother, shocked to be introduced to the princess, when they passed through town a century ago. She was hesitant to give Zelda her hand, all dirty from the fence that she had been fixing. And she had taken one look at them and known. Zelda wonders if she survived the calamity, living a lonely life as a widow and a childless mother. 

Link’s father, the gentle knight who had given her sweets when she was little, must have lost his life alongside her own father, in the castle.

“They lived here, didn’t they?”

His question brings her back to the present. “How do you know?”

He shakes his head a bit, closing his eyes. “I knew when I first came here. I felt excited when I found my way here, but when I walked around for a bit... It began to hurt, so badly that I couldn’t sleep the first night. It still does, and I am afraid the pain will only grow if you tell me about them. Maybe for now, it is enough to know that I loved them. And I am sure of their love as well.”

She knows what he means. The thought of her father, dying in the castle… Tears come to her eyes and she takes his hand.

“I can understand that,” she murmurs, “But I want you to know that I knew them. Purah as well. So if you want to ask, we would have answers.”

“Thank you. That’s good to know.”

They are quiet for a while, until the first stars begin to arrive in the sky. He is watching their joined hands, stroking hers with his thumb.

“Zelda,” he says quietly, suddenly looking up at her. “Were we lovers?”

She expected him to ask this eventually, but it still startles her. Her mouth opens, but no words come to her. How can she possibly describe what it was like between them, when he lost all memory of it?

He seems to notice that she has trouble answering. 

“When I woke,” he says, “When I woke and heard your voice, I have never felt such yearning. I didn’t know you, I had no face to your name, but I missed you terribly. And now that you are here, with me… I thought it would be strange as I don’t feel comfortable around most people. But when you came back I was just relieved, so at ease with myself. And every day, I can feel it growing, this thing between us. And you feel it too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “Just like I did one hundred years ago.”

"And I know you. I cannot recall a single moment between us from the past, but I _know_ you. I know what you like, how you will react to things, what mood you are in. It's the strangest thing."

"How are you so at peace with losing your memories?"

He shrugs. “As far as I can tell, we are the only survivors of a horrible war that took everyone that mattered from us. It doesn’t matter if we live our lives now or 100 years ago. And I’d rather be in this peaceful world, where few remember it, including me, than in the immediate aftermath.”

 _But it does matter_ , she thinks. Now she can love him openly, and she has no duties if she does not want them. A seat on a newly established council, if they let her. An informant for the hidden treasures that still remain in the castle, to found infrastructure and security for their lands. All duties that allow her to stay here, with him. Maybe it is best when he knows little of their past struggles, when he has no memories that would obscure this newfound peace. 

The cat suddenly leaps out of Link’s lap. He tries to lure her back, but is unsuccessful. The animal vanishes into the night, and he looks after her, wistfully.

“I want one,” he says, clearly hurt by its behaviour.

“Let’s go inside,” she says, shaking her head. “I am cold.”

She does not wait for the nightmares to ask him. He joins her in bed, and she places her hand over his heart, buries her face in his back, ever so grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May have gone a bit overboard with the "..." in this chapter... Thanks everyone for reading, kudos and comments. It really means the world to me! I am going to my parents for the weekend, to my grandparents' farm on the countryside, to do some horse riding, reading and cake eating. I hope you all have a lovely weekend as well <3


	4. Lanayru

The Spring of Wisdom is a failure, just like she expected. After a whole day without feeling her legs, she finally gives up. Returning to the castle, facing her father, the other champions, her knight behind her… it is unthinkable. Zelda cries in the icy water, throws a tantrum, shoving his arms away when he tries to calm her. The crying won’t stop, not when she finally puts on warm clothes and retreats to their camp. Link bears her, not daring to touch her again, and she is glad for it. He is tending to their fire and simply waits, while she sits across from him, crying and shivering for hours. The many blankets and elixirs that they brought, nothing is helping against Lanayru’s climate. 

Where is the joy that she felt just yesterday, when they were allowed to go out for a ride, watching that beautiful sunset? This mountain, it feels like it is draining her, leaving nothing but dread and terror in her bones. She has never been to a place worse than this.

Link adds another log to their fire, silently watching her from the other side. He has given up talking and comforting her hours ago, quickly realizing that it is a lost cause. She tries to remember a time when he looked at her without worry in his eyes. It’s her worry for his well being, the shiver she sees in his body under the thin blanket that finally breaks her silence. 

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks. “If I asked you, would you run away with me?”

Blue eyes rush to meet hers, but she cannot look at him after her question. 

Mumbling, she continues: “I’ll never ask for real. You love your family too much and I cannot risk you being punished for it. But I need to know what you would say, so that I can dream about it, and lose myself in the possibility.”

“I know what you mean.” 

Hearing his voice again after one of his long silences is a comfort, as always. 

“I’d go with you,” he says, “If you were to ask.”

Tears come to her eyes again, but this time due to the relief that is flooding her. “Where would we go?”

“A cave or an abandoned hut somewhere, to wait out the first year.”

“Near the hot springs that we visited?”

He smiles, even though there are tears in his eyes as well. “Yes.”

“How would you prepare for it?”

“I’d teach you hunting on our travels, and we would have to study every agriculture book that the library has to offer. Leave at the beginning of spring, as much time as possible to prepare for winter. Make them think somehow that you ran away overseas, to another country.”

“I could arrange to buy the passage,” she says, “Send one of my maids, they’d love a secret mission.”

“We’d have to cut off your hair and dye it.”

“What about yours?”

“Never.”

She rolls her eyes. “Have some trust in me. Cutting hair can’t be that hard, I’m sure-”

“You are not touching my hair.”

For a moment, all seems well. They are softly smiling at each other, until she remembers where they are, and that she’ll never escape this dull life of hers. 

He must have sensed her mood, so he continues quickly. “You could become a teacher. Or a librarian. Or publish books about your research.”

Hearing him coming up with all of this so quickly, she is almost sure that he has thought of it as well. 

“What would you do?” she asks.

“Any errand that would find me. Anything but fighting. Maybe horse breeding.”

She laughs out loud at that one. “You’d never have the heart to sell one. And you are no good at bargaining.”

“You’d be there. Protecting me from ruining my newfound business.”

She watches as he continues to dwell on this stupid dream, the longing on his face almost too much to look at. His answer, the confirmation that he’d come is what she wanted, but it leaves a sour taste. Looking at him, she isn’t sure if she’ll find any comfort in the fantasies, now that she knows he wants it as well. And it’s even worse knowing they would succeed, that there is no way they wouldn’t make it.

“And you and I,” she interrupts him, the words leaving her mouth before she can stop herself, “We would become lovers, wouldn’t we?”

Her words silence his rambling, and the face he makes is hard to read. If she had to guess, she’d say he looks afraid of her. The game that she is playing, maybe she is taking it too far, hurting them too deeply with this wistful thinking. They have never spoken of this before, never crossed the line, and maybe starting down this path was a really bad idea. 

So before he has a change to answer, she says: “It does not matter. The calamity would still find us. Everyone would die if we’re not there to do something.”

She can no longer bear this conversation. Her frozen limbs protest as she lays down onto her blankets, turning her back to the fire. They are safe at the spring, he is not obliged to guard her, but he does not move. After a long while, his quiet voice carries over to her, pulling her from the beginning slumber.

“If you asked me, I’d say yes. And if we ran, I’d love you openly within the first second of freedom.”

With great difficulty, she turns so that she is facing him. The fire burns on her cold face and the look that he gives her is so sad that she tears up again.

“Everyday,” he says, his voice not more than a whisper, “Everyday I wish you would ask.”

“I’ll ask,” she croaks. “If we survive, I’ll ask you.”

He does not answer, and a terror is taking hold of her. She closes her eyes, trying to escape from it, but the dread does not go away. She starts to cry, wiping away tears with icy fingertips. 

“Let me hold you,” he murmurs suddenly. A moment later he is pulling her into his lap, wrapping his single blanket around them, shielding her from the icy winds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the memory it does not look as if they spend the night there, but I sure hope they did. Thank you all for your comments and kudos, it's what makes me want to continue the most <3


End file.
